


At A Quarter Tank

by PickleDillo



Series: Nothing But Fumes [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon for Running On Empty, F/M, Gen, Look into the chaotic life of Jaime, Not Full Works, Snippets, Suggestions, and her misfits, random moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickleDillo/pseuds/PickleDillo
Summary: Brief and not so brief looks into Jaime's life through the eyes of her companions, soldiers, enemies, and general public as they watch their savior do her best. And not so best.Must read Running On Empty to understand, suggestions always welcome.





	1. SNIPPET – CULLEN – CHAPTER 3 COMPANION

**Author's Note:**

> TOLD YOU.
> 
> Enjoy, y'all. 
> 
> Remember, no beta, so any errors are my own.

“Why would you hold the hammer that way?”

“… what other way would I hold it?”

Cullen breathed deep and pinched the bridge of his nose. Reality aside, he had assumed the girl had some basic knowledge of weaponry, or at least of the hammer she was partial to. His hand came away from his face and the Herald’s mouth was upturned into an amused half-smile.

“I would hardly think this is funny, Herald. We need to have you combat ready before you head out into the field.” Cullen chastised. It only made her smile wider and Maker Above he had been given a child to train for battle. Another hard sigh escaped him.

“Commander, you’re making it sound like someone’s gonna hit me with a smite the minute I leave Haven.” She laughed. It pained him, nearly physically, on how easily she tossed away the severity and danger that placed a target on her back. Cullen concentrated on the sounds of his soldiers training around them to keep his voice level.

“Someone could, just as well,” he grumbled. He gripped the pommel of his sword and let it clank against his armor, a minor distraction that allowed him to think. Her gaze flashed to the weapon, curiosity and wariness wrapped all in one single look. To be so carefree and so nervous at the same time on the wrong thing. It was a worrisome thing that she was more fearful of the swords and hammers and daggers that surrounded her rather than the magic she couldn’t see.

It was frustrating trying to make her understand. Perhaps if she _trained_ with a mage, but there was no mage that he could trust with her. Even the elven apostate was too much of a stretch for him.

“Here.” He reached out and took her hands, soft and unhardened by hard work, and adjusted them on her maul. She struggled to keep the head of her weapon more than a few heads above the ground and her shoulders shook with the effort. Granted, the other hammer she used was smaller and quicker, but would do little more than a mace could in the heat of battle.

“This thing is friggin’ heavy.” She muttered and hefted it higher in her grip. _Such strange words_. He feared for the nature of literature and vocabulary if Leliana’s theory proved correct; that the girl was from a distant future of theirs.

“Naturally, it supposed to be.” He moved his feet into a ready stance, his knees bent and his arms up as if he held the maul himself. “The beauty of a maul is its weight. Though you may not be swift with it, once in motion, the delivering blow can stop nearly anything.”

“Hah,” she laughed, “Newton’s First Law.”

Cullen paused, straightening. “Who?”

“Oh, uh.” Her face flushed deeply, the maul dropping in surprise. “It’s – Newton was a scientist in – and, anyway, he discovered this thing – um, first law of physics, that an object in motion, will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external force.” There was another pause between them and the heat of her flush traveled further up to her ears.

“That just sounds like common sense.” Cullen replied, bemused.

The flush reached her neck. “W-well, yeah, _now_. It wasn’t so common sense back in – never mind.” He managed to wrangle down a chuckle, not wanting to embarrass her further. It was comforting in an extremely strange way to know that perhaps their worlds were quite so different.

“Then you’ll understand the basic concept of the maul.” Cullen diverted the conversation. “The idea is to build momentum and bring the swing hard.”

“That’s _definitely_ common sense.” She shot back, but the smile that flickered over her mouth hedged her words. He snorted and fought back a smirk. Perhaps not so keen to fight with weapons, but certainly mouthier than her peers in his ranks.

“Now.” He continued his instruction, ignoring her jab. “Think of the swing much like you would as if you’re chopping wood.”

“Annnnd that’s where I’m gonna stop you.” She laughed. “Haven’t chopped a single log in my life.”

Cullen blinked at her. “… you’re joking.”

“Absolutely not.” She grinned, the maul’s head dropped to her feet. Her elbows were shaking.

“Then… how?” His brows pinched over his nose. “Did you have servants?”

“What? Christ, no.” She shook her head, lips bunched, perturbed. “There was just no need. It wasn’t like I lived out in a cabin by the woods.” Cullen felt like his head was going to split. The lack of weapon experience he could excuse, but not understanding the basic everyday duties of a household?

“How did you stay warm in the winter?” He challenged, tone utterly confused.

“I lived in a desert.” She fired back with a shrug. “The coldest nights weren’t cold enough for snow. The home was just naturally warm enough. It was our summers that were just the worst.” His shoulders relaxed. It made _sense_ , but there was still the need for wood for stoves and other such things. Her answer assumed firewood was not necessary for such things, either.

He ignored the hundred odd questions that surfaced. Conversations for another time.

“Indeed.” He finally replied, huffing. “Well. Feet apart as I showed you. Knees bent, there you go. Pull up the maul, try _not_ to rest it on your shoulders, Herald.”

“I said this thing was friggin’ heavy.”

“And it will go ignored much like the first time.”


	2. SNIIPPET – VARRIC – BETWEEN CHAPTERS 1-3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric makes speculations. His thoughts on Jaime before he's told the whole truth.

She was at it again. She was pressed up against the log with her ass in the snow and knees drawn up to her chest. Resting against them was her little log book, parchment wrinkling under her wrists as she jotted down her strange symbols. The light of the fire flickered over her form, coloring her in gentle yellows and oranges.

He had spied now and again, walking behind her or past her, or even sitting with her. He probably didn’t need to; she hardly took notice of him when he was near and she was jotting away in her book. It was a curious sight to watch her work, her hand flying over the page as if she knew exactly what she was writing.

He had only seen the same kind of determination in a child wanting to be thought intelligent, even if they hadn’t learned their words yet. Occasionally she would ask him for spelling or his assistance with writing out a series of common words and then just as before, she’d go right back to scribbling without a single look at him.

_What is she writing? What does she **think** she’s writing?_ Being orphaned at ten didn’t leave a lot of opportunities for education. It wasn’t beyond belief that the mercenaries she had set up with would take the time to teach her, at least the basics for bartering, but the symbols were not of a language he knew, and he knew quite a few.

But, if they took the time to teach her symbols, why not teach her to read? What would be the point of a secret coding system if she didn’t know the words they were associated with? Question on question rolled over his mind. She knew her mathematics, she could easily calculate sums, even large ones in her head, if she was told the numbers.

_But she still can’t read them_.

He couldn’t be frustrated with her, not really. It was just odd. Unless she was raised with a very petty mercenary group, he wasn’t sure how they allowed a clever mind like hers to go to waste. Here she was, spending her mornings with him, reading and being read to, and afternoons with Solas or Josephine for her arithmetic.

“Varric.” She called to him. Her nose had a strip of charcoal down one side to her mouth. She had a bad habit of forgetting that her writing tool marked _everything_.

“What is it, Sweetheart? Stuck on another word?” He left his ledger on his table near his tent, standing up to wander over to her.

“I just,” she hesitated and glanced over at him as he approached, “… sorry.”

He paused, surprised. “Sorry? For what?”

“For always buggin’ you with this.” She patted her little journal with the flat of her palm. “I just… get worried. I’m not stupid. Just… language wasn’t my strongest subject.” He frowned briefly at the implication. It wasn’t clear yet if she had attended schooling, but at ten years old, her level wouldn’t have been high.

“I’m not sure what that expression is, but you’re not bothering me, if that’s what you’re saying.” He chuckled and sat next to her on the log, his hand coming over her head, his leg next to her arm as they sat together.

She hesitated again, her eyes to her journal. “… if you say so.” He shook his head and patted her hair affectionately.

“You know, I really _don’t_ mind. I’m actually a bit flattered that you’re using my books as learning material.” He smirked, smugly wracking his knuckles against her skull. It drew a laugh from her and relaxed her shoulders from whatever cloud she had gotten herself into. Her moods swung wildly the first few days, and tended to get worse on her learning days, but despite the rest of them noticing the mood swings, she hardly spoke about them.

Varric was willing to give the girl the benefit of the doubt. He would still wonder what shadow haunted her steps to warrant lying to him.

He guessed they’d all have their secrets.


	3. SNIPPET – RODERICK – CHAPTER 5 COMPANION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roderick figures a moment of silence can, certainly, go a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found it weird that after the encounter with him in Haven, it doesn't lead to anything, and you don't really see him cinematically again until the sieging of Haven. This is my explanation on why.

He could spot her just outside his field of vision. She was dressed down to just her work clothes, her odd fashion sense that had her dressed up in working trousers, low boots and a tunic that was a size too big for her frame. She had left her armor behind after the war council and now spent her time wandering around the courtyard like a lost duckling.

Until she came to him.

Roderick squared his shoulders, wondering if this was to be the day the rebellious organization attempted to toss him out. She brushed loose strands of her hair from her face and met him with a cautious tip of her head, her hands fiddling at her stomach.

“Could we talk, do you think?” She asked gently, face tight.

“Unless it’s about the Inquisition relinquishing its power to the Chantry, I think not.” He answered steadily. With a small spasm and roll of her eyes, she straightened and her hands fell away to her sides. The Mark glowed brighter for a moment, a devilish thing that gave way to her emotions.

Not for the first time he wondered at her demonic origins.

“Let’s not start off on that foot, okay?” She snapped quietly, eyes to the passing Chantry sisters and civilians. She focused on him once they had gone out of earshot. “I’m not here to make enemies.”

“And yet the Inquisition still remains intact.” He rebutted.

“Jesus, do you listen to anything anyone has to say?” She growled. Her head shook with anger, “This isn’t about the Inquisition or the Chantry or any of that.”

“Your Templar made it very clear the kind of welcome the Chantry was to expect here.” He dipped his head, his gaze still on her frowning face. “I don’t see a need to repeat the situation. Or _are_ you here to turn me into a martyr?”

“Not on your life.” She huffed, hands on her hips. “This is about these people. Leliana told me there isn’t anything the Chantry is doing to help them – it’s why they’re all coming _here_.”

“The _Chantry_ ,” he interjected heatedly, “is in shambles because _you_ decided to kill the late Divine.” He watched as she tossed her hands up in the air, displeasure and frustration, hair in disarray as she ran her hands over her head.

“ _Look_ ,” she pinned him with a sharp look, “I am not here to debate the this-or-that about your religion. These _people_ need help, desperately, and us arguing about _who_ gets to do it gets us nowhere.”

“Precisely my point,” he answered with a nod, arms crossed, “if the Inquisition just recognized –” At an alarming speed that he did not think her capable of, she stepped into his personal space and exhaled, sharp eyes narrowed on his face.

“And do _what?_ ” She asked lowly. “The Chantry is in shambles, everyone is scrambling to find order – if we just tossed our resources at the Chantry, what would they do?”

He remained silent, unwilling to justify her anger and hasty approach. He stared at her, mouth frowning deeply.

Her gaze flashed, the Mark sputtering in her palm just below his gaze.

“What would _you_ do?”

“The people need the Chantry. Our best option is to follow their directive for this disaster.” Roderick quietly replied, voice stern and throat tight. She made no move to step back, her face remained unchanged, dissatisfied with his answer.

“No.” She shot down his answer. “Would you, with our resources, _help_ these people survive or would you spend them looking for a new Divine?”

“That is an unfair question.” He replied, his gaze finally meeting hers. “The sooner we find a new Divine, the faster we may recover from this. With her leading the way, we could…” He paused. A single eyebrow of hers ticked over her eyes and only then did she lean back.

What _would_ they do? Without the Herald, there was no feasible means to seal the Breach. The Templars had disbanded well before the Herald had been awakened and taken to the Breach itself. Their attempts at controlling the Breach had failed and numerous of them had lost their lives to the demons that escaped the rip in the Veil.

The mages had fled to the shadows once the Templars had been demolished by their efforts. Terrified and weakened with a devastating amount of their kind being dragged into the chaos by demons or possessed as their wills had crumbled.

Roderick glanced at her hand and then back up to her face.

“Would you,” he began slowly, “if the opportunity arose, lend yourself to the will of the Divine to stop the Breach – even if it meant leaving your Inquisition?”

“Yes.” She answered immediately. Roderick found himself blinking hard at her sudden reply.

“You… would?” His arms loosened slightly, confusion clear in his voice.

“Chancellor, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.” She answered, causing him to wince at her use of words. She raised a hand in apologize and stepped back. He hadn’t realized he was shortening his breath until she did, exhaling fully before catching his inhale.

“Neither does Cullen or Cassandra or Leliana. No one does.” He demeanor took a gentler slouch and she held her arms up as if to beseech him. “The Inquisition is the best we have now because we have the means and the resources to help these people, to heal them. If a Divine, a good one, a _trusted_ one, were to appear? There’s no doubt in my mind Leliana and Cassandra would fall in line with her.”

“Then why not now?” Roderick demanded, his arms dropping and hands curled into fists. “What stops them from focusing their efforts in finding one that could help us with this madness?”

“Who would you trust, Chancellor?” The Herald gestured to him with an open palm, questioning. “Who, in all this fucking madness, would you trust not to have greed on the mind? To not use the power of the Inquisition –”

“And what is stopping you and your ilk from doing the same?” Roderick countered with a vicious snap. “What’s to say that the Seeker and Nightingale did not plot to have the Divine murdered for their own careers?”

There was a long, pregnant silence between them. A sadness overcame the Herald’s face, brow bent over her eyes, the same ones that searched his face with concern.

“Chancellor Roderick.” She murmured, weary. “If we’re going down that rabbit hole, we’ll never find our way out. We’ll never trust anyone, even a new Divine.”

“Then we’ve reached an impasse, girl.” Roderick crossed his arms again, anything to keep her from intruding on his space or retaliating at his words. She sighed and rubbed her hands down her face before they slid back into her hair and tugged at her bun.

“We got off point.” She said softly. “Regardless of who we trust or who leads us, the people need help. All I’m asking is that you don’t scare them away. Just let them find some rest here, please.”

“… that’s all?” Roderick narrowed his eyes.

“I just want these people to feel safe. We can’t have them feel safe if someone’s barking at the entrance about how we’re villains and usurpers. Yes?” She implored with a tilt of her head. There was a long moment between them as Roderick considered her face before he closed his eyes and relented with a nod.

She graced him with a smile.


	4. SNIPPET – SOLAS – BETWEEN CHAPTERS 1-3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas contemplates the parallels between himself and the strange human woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else freaking out about the fact that Trespasser is gonna be A HUGE PROJECT ON ITS OWN.
> 
> God. Help me.

Another world.

_Another world he didn’t know about._

The idea was astronomical. Comical, even, to think that the people who existed in the land of Thedas and had no true grasp of the Fade or the Veil now shared something with him, for the briefest, most inconsequential of moments. No idea, no grasp, no inkling of the world beyond that which he could see.

Both Fade and Thedas alike.

Desperation gnawed at his gut, the urge to pick away at the human girl’s mind and pull her thoughts apart to inspect them. What did she know, what knowledge and technology had her world created? Was her world as advanced as his had been centuries before the Veil was created? Was it further along than even that? What dangers needed things far more dangerous than swords and arrows, what monstrosities needed power escalated beyond trebuchets?

What world existed that _mages_ were dreams and demons were laughable?

What world existed that she looked at him like kin, his ears a mildly interesting characteristic instead of a damning one?

Thousands of curiosities and thousands of questions to go along with them. The nights he spent with her, teaching her letters and numbers, to write and comprehend, denuded an intelligence she had stored away under her lies.

He watched her as she drew on the long sheet of parchment she had on his cabin floor. On the corners were small drawings of devices she called ‘ _cellular phones_ ’ of varies sizes, on the other right corner, devices that looked like books, folding and unfolding; these she called ‘ _lap tops_.’ Things that she worked with and explained their necessity for her trade.

It was boggling to think such tiny devices could hold hundreds if not thousands of books, articles, histories, and information. Common place items that any of his kind previously would have been envious of. The newest drawing that she worked on was what she called a ‘ _car_ ,’ the slang term for an ‘ _automobile_ ,’ their form of transportation.

“It has an engine, you said? I believe the Qunari have such a thing on their battleships.” He speculated. Her hand paused in its drawing and she glanced up at him under her hair.

“Do they? Do you know if they have a steam engine or a combustion engine?” She sat up from lying on her stomach and straightened out her tunic. Solas blinked at the question, but kept his lips tight as he buzzed through the context clues.

_Steam_ he could understand. Basic deduction concluded that the steam was either compressed or funneled to propel the ship forward, but something of that size being moved by mere steam was astounding.

_Combustion_ , _though_.

“Explain what a combustion engine is, if you would.” He asked, a frown gentle on his mouth.

“Basically, it’s a piece of machinery that allows for – here, it’s going to be ridiculous if I don’t show you.” From there, she proceeded to lean over the parchment again and drew a block, within it, small mace-looking figures that where held within the box, trapped in their sections.

“Pistons,” she pointed to the mace like objects, “they move by use of this arm here, that moves in a circular motion.” She drew a thin, long piece that connected at the end of the ‘pistons.’

“And the combustion?” He prompted with a hand on his chin.

“Gettin’ there, hold your pants.” She grumbled and continued to draw. She drew sparks of fire and embers, or what looked like embers. “So here, as the pistons move up and down, there’s a plug that sprays fuel into the chambers. With a rapid push, the piston compresses the fuel and _boom!_ ”

The laugh she gave him was almost maniacal.

“So if I’m to understand it, you’re forcing fire with… friction? And that, in turn, forces the pis-ton back and generates movement?” He couldn’t rightly fathom how, unless the bar connecting all the pistons together was connected to something else that assisted with motion.

“Yeah!” She cheered lightly. “Pretty much. Don’t ask me for greater detail because mechanics was not my area, that was Jake.”

“… Jake?” Solas murmured curiously. The girl stopped, fingers tight around the piece of charcoal she held and suddenly, without any warning, tears spilled down her cheeks. A multitude of guesses popped to mind _lover, friend, brother_ and he reached for a small handkerchief he kept in his nightstand.

He moved toward her and knelt close, careful of her parchment and held out the handkerchief to her.

“… my brother. Big brother. Older, I mean.” She chuckled weakly and took his offering. “He was – is – a mechanic. Works on these things, the cars and bikes and stuff. Shit, I miss him.” She wiped at her face roughly and down her neck, catching the fleeing tears.

It had been roughly three or four months since her arrival. Aside from the initial terror the first few days, she showed little in the way of grief or loneliness. Solas knew the feeling well, keeping the rolling emotions at bay. Accepting the situation for the chaotic mess that it was, if only to survive.

“If you ever… need to speak of them, talk about these things, Jaime, you may do so with me.” He offered quietly. Of all the people that surrounded, Solas was hard-pressed to say that anyone else could understand her situation better than he could. He kept a hand on her shoulder and waited until she looked up at him. He recognized the tired look in her eyes, a forlorn sigh escaped her.

In this, they shared as well. Two misplaced creatures in worlds strange and unfamiliar. He wondered at the possibility that, should he break the world as it was to return it to how it had been… would she die along with the rest, or return to her own?

So many questions. Not all of them possibilities.


	5. SNIPPET – KREM – COMPANION PIECE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem takes a moment to appreciate how easily The Herald can make a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnng.
> 
> I just. Want to write all the fluffy, flirty things. 
> 
> Damnit, someone help me.

“No, _shears_ beats parchment, but not rock.”

“You do realize rock can just sit on the parchment, right?”

“Humor me, Bull.”

Krem hid a smile behind his ale as the Herald smacked her hand against the Chief’s fist, held out dutifully in their game. Though it wasn’t readily noticeable, Krem had a pretty good inkling that the Chief was just as entertained in upsetting her as he was doing her bidding. The faint smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth was a good indication.

“Rock over shears, shears over parchment, parchment over rock. How hard is that?” With each explanation, the Herald had taken her hands to make the appropriate shapes and placed one over the other as she went.

“Not hard, just illogical. Shears and parchment, I can understand, but rock would beat out anything.” The smile had turned into a full smirk and only served to irritate their Herald further. Her ears had flushed red. Dalish grinned just behind them at her table. Krem continued to drink at his table, amused.

“You know, it’s not all about brute force, you maniac.”

“That’s rich, coming from the spit of the girl who threw herself face first into –” Chief nearly laughed as The Herald raised a hand, nearly touching his chin and shushed him with a wave of her bandaged fingers.

“Did I not make you swear to secrecy?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not a vow of silence, is it?” The Chief replied. She leveled him with such a heated, sour-apple look; it was just enough to buy herself a toothy grin from the Chief. Skinner rolled her eyes at their poor flirting and shook her head with a look to Krem. All he could do was shrug, he wasn’t sure the girl even knew that the boss was flirting with her to begin with, really.

“You’re such an ass. Why did I hire you?” It was a treasure to hear the Herald swear, her voice was gruff as if she was constantly thirsty, her tongue was too sharp to be ever be anything more than gentle for a handful of moments. Krem suspected it was one of the reasons Chief jostled her nerves around.

“Good looks and fucking shit up?” Chief smirked and waggled his one good eyebrow not stuck under the eyepatch. A horrendous snort escaped the Herald and it had Dalish giggling drunkenly into her pint, froth topping her nose.

“Noted. Not for smarts, apparently.” Boldly, and much to Krem’s surprise, the Herald reached up and patted one of the Chief’s pectorals. It caught the Qunari off his guard for only a moment, their boss blinking in surprise before he covered it with another smirk, canines flashing.

Did the girl know what she was courting, at _all_?

“Hey now.”

Normally having their Chief insulted was a cause for concern, since they hadn’t been properly introduced to their client, but given that the boss was giving the girl a lot of leeway when it came to her attitude and treatment of him, Krem was willing to overlook their banter. Besides, he hadn’t seen the Chief smile quite so much with someone who wasn’t a part of the Company.

The girl was in for a real surprise.


End file.
